Sanctuary Redone
by Pantera Kedian
Summary: Okay, don't get mad at me people! This is sort of a rewrite of the episode Sanctuary, due to the fact that I love the show but don't have a single episode on tape. So I just wrote it like I remembered. Hope you like it.


Disclaimer: Okay. I don't own gargoyles. That should be fairly obvious as this is fanfiction. Oh well.

Note: This is a rewrite of Sanctuary. Okay, here's what happened. I absolutely LOVE this show! It is the most awesome show I have ever seen in my life! But due to my VCR being an idiot, I don't have a single episode on tape. But a lot of them I remember really well. So I started writing them the way I remembered, taking what I DID remember of the episode and matching it up with what I knew about the characters and the way they would react in certain situations. The experiment, overall I think, was a success. I certainly got some cool stories out of it. So if you're in the mood for something that's like Sanctuary (my first completed one) but not EXACTLY like it, word for word, then here it is. I'm sorry. I couldn't remember it word for word. 

All I ask is please don't flame me because its not **precisely** the same as the aired issue. I did my best. And flaming's not nice anyway. 

            The mist hung over everything like a giant blanket, the quiet sea personified in the air. It was so thick that Elisa Maza could barely see her hand in front of her face as she raised it to shove a few strands of droplet bedecked black hair out of her face. Small waves smacked lightly against the wooden side of the small skiff where four people were cramped together, created by the gargoyle behind her as he oared the craft gently onward. Other than the faint sloshing sound this made, complete silence reigned. It would have been eerie had the cop not been thoroughly used to it by now. Magic fogs would be mysterious, after all, and she had been traveling through this one for quite a while now. It felt like months, though the actual number of days was quite a bit smaller. Every time they tried to return home by using Avalon's magic it was the same; the utter blinding, world-enshrouding fog, and then its clearing, sending them into some foreign land, some new adventure. But it never took them where they were trying to go. The only question now was where would they end up this time?

            Her question was echoed a moment later by one of her other shipmates. "I wonder where Avalon's magic will send us this time?" Angela wondered innocently, completely unaware of how old that question was getting. She was a striking figure; a gargoyle, which meant she comfortably stood nearly a head taller than the slender human next to her. Her skin was shaded a mix of slate grey and dusky purple, matching Goliath's sheen so exactly it was no wonder to Elisa that they were related. Her long sable hair was thick and shiny and swept back from her forehead by a pair of small horns to hang in a medieval style ponytail down her back. Her face was a perfect oval; a pointed, slightly curved nose and large tilted eyes making her a beauty by anyone's standards, gargoyle or human. 

            At the back of the skiff Goliath stirred, looking over at his teenage daughter. He looked like a larger, older, male copy of her. Their coloring was precisely the same, though his mane of dark hair fell free to a little past his shoulders and did not continue on to the waist as hers did. His face had more of a square shape to it as well, with a strong chin and piercing, intent eyes. He also towered a foot and a half above Elisa, rippled with muscles, and looked like he could throw a small car if he had a mind to. In fact, the New Yorker had seen him do that once and was still impressed, in spite of herself. Now he looked on Angela with a soft expression, one that he reserved for his clan mates only, and answered her question with the reply he always used, his voice vibrating out in a thrilling, deep bass. "We shall find out in due time." 

            At Angela's feet the dog gargoyle Bronx, named after that part of the famous city, snorted from under his curled tail, looking like a large blue boulder in his curled position. 

            Elisa rested her head in her hands, her red-jacketed elbows resting on the skiff's bow. She didn't bother answering. They'd heard all her witty comebacks many times before. It truly was an old question. Suddenly she sat up again, peering into the fog ahead of her. 

 "Hey. I think its getting lighter up ahead!" she called back to them. Everyone strained their eyes forward, impatient to see what new landscape would await them. With startling quickness the mist cleared, falling away in wisps and streamers to reveal a city nightscape so close they were practically upon it. Clearly visible to their sight, at the center of the city, was a gigantic church sweeping to the heavens, its twin towers a mass of intricate carvings and architectural wonder. 

            "Paris," Elisa declared, swing her gaze around to pick up the Eiffel Tower in the distance. "Well, this is different at least. To be honest, I was getting a little tired of deserted jungles and trackless deserts."

            "Me too," Angela agreed fervently. 

            Goliath used his oar as a pole now as they reached shallower water, posting them into a waterway that opened up next to one of the city's outskirt alleys. There he stopped, tossing a rope to Elisa in the front, which she quickly used to tie the boat up to a nearby wall. The skiff secured, the four piled out, greatly appreciating the reprieve from close, cramped uncomfortableness. Angela began looking around curiously, taking in as much of the place as she could from the restricting alleyway. Bronx paced beside her, his back coming up all the way to her waist. 

            Elisa walked over to Goliath, who was scanning the sky in concern. "It is almost dawn," he announced. "We do not have enough time tonight to see why Avalon has sent us here." He turned to look at the tanned woman standing next to him. "Elisa…"

            "I'll look around. See what's up," she assured him, somewhat amused with the concerned expression he always wore when asking her to do something, worried for her safety when there was no need. 

            He nodded at her reply and turned to look at the others. "Angela!" he called. She looked back at him and he nodded towards the lightening sky. She got the point at once and returned to his side from where she'd been exploring, the dog still tailing her faithfully. The three moved into the shadowy rear of the corridor, where the backside of a building met a wall in dusty acquaintance.  There they crouched and waited. A moment later the sun topped the horizon, rising in an aura of gold and rose. There was a stiffening sound, as of ice forming quickly on a lake, and the gargoyles turned to granite before their companion's eyes. She didn't seem surprised by this and watched impassively. 

            "Sleep tight, you guys," Elisa murmured and turned away form them, walking out of the alley and into the capital of France. 

            ***

            Paris shone in the daylight, the streets seeming to sparkle in the wet remnants of a previous day's rain. It was times like this that Elisa didn't mind getting stuck hundreds of miles away from home with no convenient way back. She'd always wanted to visit Paris, but had never worked up the motivation to actually do it. By now however, several hours had passed, and as the light started to grow slanted, the sun lowering towards the horizon, the American found herself getting impatient. She had been looking for clues to what job Avalon could possibly want them to do here but had found nothing; no unusual activity, no problems that only a gargoyle could fix. She briefly entertained the pleasant notion that it had sent them here to give them all a break after the good work they had done in the past, but, unfortunately, she didn't think that very likely. 

            Not knowing what else to do, Elisa wandered over to a newspaper stand, idly looking over the headlines. A picture on the font cover of one caught her attention immediately and she picked up the paper with a gasp.

            "Oh, wow," she muttered. At the top of the first page, in all its black and white glory, was a photograph of Notre Dame. And silhouetted against the moon was a shape that was extremely familiar to her eyes. It was the winged shape of a gargoyle in flight. The caption above the picture and story read FLYING CREATURE SPOTTED IN SKY! Elisa scanned the article quickly, and then raised her head, looking for the newspaper vendor. He was on the other side of the large booth, flipping through a magazine. 

            "Excuse me?!" she called to him. 

            He looked up at her and smiled, asking her something in his native language as he walked over. 

            Elisa stared at him blankly. "Um…I'm sorry. I don't speak French," she told him. 

            "Ah. Tourist," he said in sudden understanding, switching to English. An irritating smirk appeared on his face as he eyed her faded red jacket and scuffed jeans.

            She stuffed down her annoyance at his obvious derisive amusement and smiled back at him. "Uh, yeah. Something like that. Anyway, I'd like to buy this paper. Do you take American money?"

            "Oui. That we do." He took the limp bills she handed him, still with the superior smile, and returned her change in French coins, probably short-changing her, she figured, as the 'stupid American' couldn't possibly know how much he'd given her. Well, she didn't at that, but then she hadn't planned on showing up here. Not saying anything or meeting his eyes she took the money and stuffed it into her pocket, turning around quickly to leave. Just as rapidly she whirled around again, hiding her face in the collar of her jacket. The vendor looked at her curiously but she ignored him as she hurried to the side of the street and into the shadow of a building. Only then did she turn around again, eyes searching for what she had so briefly seen. She spotted them. A tall, imposing, white haired man in a black trench coat and at his side a fiery redhead with a green scarf covering her flaming curls. She laid one finely manicured hand on the man's arm and laughed gaily at something he had said, causing the man to smile in return. They were the very picture of happy lovers out for a stroll. They were two very ominous problems standing next to each other. 

            "What the…" Elisa muttered as the woman took his arm and they began walking again. "Macbeth and Demona strolling arm in arm? Incredible."

            Just then the gorgeous figure leaned her head whimsically against his arm and he leaned down to catch her rosebud lips in a kiss. She melted into his embrace, wrapping her arms about his neck as she did so.

            "Oh, I don't believe this," the cop said incredulously. Elisa had seen enough. Walking carefully in the shadows to avoid being seen as the two began moving again, she slipped around them and started back in the direction of her friends. The sun would set soon and Goliath would be anxious if she wasn't there. Besides, she had a load to tell them. 

            ***

            Macbeth was happier than he could remember being in a very long time. And to the ancient, immortal king a long time was terribly lengthy indeed. The woman strolling next to him, Dominique…**his Dominique, had grown strangely quiet all of a sudden, but the Scotsman didn't let it bother him. He had something important that he had to do, something he hadn't thought he'd ever be able or have the inclination to do again.**

            "It is getting late. I should go," she spoke up in her endearing French accent, stepping away from him as she spoke. "I will see you tomorrow, beloved."

            He caught her arm as she started to leave. "Dominique, wait just a moment! I want to tell you something."

            She glanced at the waning light, then turned to face him with a concerned expression. "What is it, Lennox?" the redhead asked.

            He gazed into her depthless emerald eyes, so guileless, so intelligent. Clearing his throat, he spoke, trying to be as sincere with her as she had always been with him. "After…my wife died I always believed that a part of me had died with her. I thought that I could never again feel the way I had felt when I was with her. Such love, such care." He raised his hand and ran down one side of her face. "I guess I was just scared to feel that way again, afraid of losing something so precious that all the world was ashes without her."

            Dominique began to speak, but he hushed her with a gesture. "I'm not afraid any longer. You spark feelings in me that I thought were lost forever. You are my sun, bringing me out of the darkness. I love you." He paused and took a deep breath, reaching into his pocket to produce a tiny box, which he handed to her. "And you would do me all the honor in the world if you would agree to be my wife."

            She opened the box and stared at the diamond ring that glittered back at her, then raised her eyes to look up at him. He was starting to feel nervous at her silence when she broke into a smile and embraced him, burying her head in his chest. "Oh yes, Lennox!" she exclaimed. "You don't know how long I've been waiting for you to ask." Then, without waiting for him to react she pulled away again, smiling up at him even as she stepped back. "But I really must leave now."

            "So soon?" he asked anxiously. 

            "It is getting late," she repeated, shooting another glance at the setting sun.

            "It's not that late. We've only just gotten betrothed!"

            She laid a smooth hand on his lips, silencing him. "Soon, dear. I will see you tomorrow. That will be soon enough. Can we have the wedding then?"

            Macbeth stared. "Don't you think that's a little early?"

            "Of course not," she replied immediately, with a bit of her normal fire. "I don't want to spend another minute single now that I know I can have you. Promise me we can." 

            "I…certainly. Whatever you wish."

            "Good," she nodded in satisfaction, looking like the cat that found the cream. Then she turned around and started walking away swiftly. "I'll see you then!" she called back over her shoulder.

            Behind her Macbeth stood in the fading light of sunset, a completely baffled expression on his face. 

            ***

            "And that's the whole story," Elisa finished, facing the grave faces of her friends. "It sounds like Demona and Macbeth are working together again."

            "Perhaps. Perhaps not," Goliath mused. "As you said, they were behaving very oddly. I cannot imagine those two ever in a romance."

            "Hey, it surprised me too," Elisa said, shaking her head at the strangeness.

            Angela seemed to have followed her father's train of thought better than the cop had. "When the Weird Sisters removed their spell from those two they said they wouldn't remember anything they'd done while under its influence."

            "Which means it is possible that Macbeth is unaware of Demona's transformation." Goliath finished.

            Elisa nodded in sudden understanding. "He doesn't know she turns human by day. So, she's using him. It sounds like she's up to her old tricks again."

            Goliath stood up. "This **must be why Avalon sent us here. Whatever plot she is hatching, it is up to us to stop it." He looked down at the newspaper still held loosely in Elisa's hands, focusing on the picture of the church. "I will look for her near Notre Dame. If she was seen there, then more than likely her roost is nearby."**

            "Great," Angela said, also standing.

            The large gargoyle shot her a sidelong look, and then turned his gaze meaningfully to the human woman. "Elisa, may I...speak with you privately for a moment?"

            She looked puzzled but nodded. "I guess. Sure."

            They walked a little ways away.

            "What's up?" she wanted to know.

            "It is Angela," Goliath began and paused, unsure of how to put it. "She has all these…odd views about family, having been raised by humans. I do not think she would react well on finding out about her relationship to Demona. With your permission, I would like to leave her here; nominally to protect you."

            Elisa raised an eyebrow. She hadn't expected Goliath to say that much about Demona. When asked about family he always spouted that rhetoric about children belonging to the whole clan, evading the issue even though it was painfully clear who Angela's parents actually were. He wouldn't even admit to being her father, only saying it didn't matter when she confronted him with it. He was obviously very worried about this, however. And come to think of it, Elisa didn't know how she'd react to finding out her mother was a psychotic killer intent on world destruction. Not well, she guessed. 

            So she looked at Goliath dubiously, but in assent. "Well, I guess so. I don't like deceiving her, though."

            "It is for her own protection," the gargoyle said and quickly turned away before she could say anything else. 

            "Angela," he said, walking over to her. "I am concerned for Elisa's safety. Demona has a grudge against her and has tried to kill her many times in the past." That much was true at least. "I want you to stay here with her and protect her if anything should happen."

            Angela frowned at him, one hand lying on Bronx's flank. "But Demona doesn't even know we're here," she protested. 

            "Yes, but if she sees me she will know. I do not want anything to happen to Elisa."

            The cop forced a smile at the teenager. "I really would feel safer," she said.

            Angela was looking uncertainly between the two of them. "I guess so," she said, and then nodded, firming her resolve. "Very well. I will stay here."

            "Good," Goliath replied and spread his wings. "I will be off now." Without another word he scaled the wall of the alley and jumped into the air, catching an updraft with his wings to soar away.

            The female gargoyle sent a puzzled look at her ward. "Does he seem to be acting strangely to you?"

            Elisa shrugged, feeling a little guilty. "I hadn't noticed," she lied. 

            ***

            Goliath glided along on the breath of the night, making small adjustments with his wings as the air shifted slightly this way or that. He stayed high in the sky, trying to avoid being spied by the curious cameras of tourists below, but was not overly worried about it. It was amazing how rarely people actually looked up. Eventually he approached the towering structure of Notre Dame Cathedral and dropped down to it, landing on one of its flying buttresses. He had said he thought Demona would be near the mighty church. In reality he was starting to suspect she would be in it. It was a huge structure, after all, with many places people rarely went. And it was covered in such an array of carvings and sculpted gargoyles already that who would notice one more? He was determined to search the place, sure he would find her if he did so. The only problem was that Notre Dame was enormous. This could take some time. Resolute, he began hunting.

            ***

            Angela was getting impatient quickly. Stillness reigned in the makeshift camp and she really didn't see any danger to Elisa. Furthermore, she was convinced her father was hiding something from her. In frustration she started pacing, watched by her friend and the dog as she did so. 

            "Why don't you sit down," Elisa offered. "You're just gonna work yourself up, doing that."

            "What isn't he telling me!" the gargoyle demanded to herself. "What is he hiding?!"

            The cop blinked. "He's not hiding anything. Relax, Angela. Nothing's going to happen."

            Angela caught the way her eyes slid away from the teens' as she said that. _Elisa's in on it, she realized with a sinking feeling, one that immediately gave way to anger. "Exactly," she bit out and started to stride away._

            "Wait! Where are you going?" the dark woman called after her.

            "You said it yourself," she answered over her shoulder. "Nothing's going to happen here! I'm going to find Goliath." With that she too scaled the high wall as easily as a cat, her talons digging into the rough stone. Reaching the top she spread her wings and leaped off, her form hanging in the sky for a moment before quickly fading into the dusky night. 

            "Wonderful," the human muttered, staring after her.

            ***

            Goliath finally spotted her. She was standing in the spacious bell tower, silent and unmoving. Her flaming red hair was the same as before, falling down her back in lava flows, but the rest of her bore little resemblance to her human form. She was a gargoyle now that night had fallen, with turquoise blue skin and purple shaded wings rising majestically from her back. The face was still the alike however, albeit with fangs and pointed ears added on. She was different, yet the same, a haunting similarity to Dominique changed into something alien. Goliath didn't know what she was doing here, so still in this deserted space, and to be honest, he didn't care particularly. With one swift move he banked his wings and landed in an open window leading to the empty room. Demona looked up at the sound of whooshing air, her whole face lighting up as she did so.

            "You're here!" she exclaimed happily. "My love, everything went exactly as you..." She trailed off as he stepped into the room, eyes widening with shock, then narrowing to dangerous slits. "Goliath!" she spat, dropping to a defensive crouch. "What are you doing here?!"

            Goliath was more interested to her previous reaction, however. "You were waiting for someone?" he asked. "Who?"

            "That's none of your business!" she snapped at him. "I don't know what you're doing in Paris, but I won't let you get in my way." She moved forward as if to attack and Goliath braced himself for the coming assault. 

            A dark voice cut through the tense moment. "Here now. That's no way to treat a guest." There was another swooping sound and a shadow appeared in the window, taking shape as the person stepped into the room with them. 

            He looked almost exactly like Goliath; the body was the same size and shape, the hair the same thick mane, the face identical. The only differences lay in coloring. His skin was grey almost to the point of being black, making a striking contrast to his snowy white hair. And his eyes glinted with grim amusement, a malevolent red. Demona abandoned her predatory stance at once, running over to embrace him almost desperately. 

"My love!" she said, looking up at him with an expression that was nothing short of blind adoration. 

"Thailog?!" Goliath exclaimed in stunned shock.

"Goliath," Thailog purred, his voice the same bass as his counterpart's but underlaid with thinly veiled malice. He held Demona loosely in his arms as he looked smugly at the other. "I wasn't expecting to see you here. Don't you have enough to do, monopolizing New York? You have to meddle in Paris as well?"

"You were the one whose picture was taken in the newspaper," Goliath said in understanding. "You've been living here, in Notre Dame."

"Guilty as charged," Thailog agreed. "I had to go somewhere where 'Daddy Xanatos' wouldn't find me, after all. And it turned out to be fortunate for me. Look who I found here, wandering around with no idea of where she'd been for the past two months." He looked down at Demona with a proprietary smile. 

Outside, the purple grey form of a young gargoyle climbed up the wall. She stopped when she heard the voices, and then inched a little higher as her father went on, halting when she could see into the room.

"You two are a couple?" Goliath asked, incredulous in spite of the evidence before his eyes.

"Don't mind him," Demona told her lover, turning scornful eyes to her ex-husband. "He's just jealous. He can't get over the fact that I've found someone better than he ever was."

Angela gasped in the night air, but the steady wind whirled the sound away, unheard by those above.

"That's not it," Goliath said, shaking his head. He tried to make Demona see. "You can't trust Thailog. He cares nothing for anyone but himself, exploiting others for his own gains. Whatever plot you two are involved in with Macbeth, be assured that it will help you not at all. He's using you!"

Demona just smirked at him. "Jealous **and paranoid," she commented.**

Out in the cold the slim shape slipped off the wall again, gliding away from the cathedral as fast as it could.

"I think you should leave, **father," Thailog said, the clone's voice turning bitter on the last word. "No one wants to hear your wild accusations and false warnings. What happens here in Paris has nothing to do with you. You might as well just leave us in peace." The dark gargoyle looked up at the lightening sky. "Unless of course you wish to roost with us. I'm sure 'Dominique' here would just love for that to happen."**

The threat was clear. If he stayed, Demona, in human form, could easily kill him while he was frozen in stone. The large gargoyle stared at his counterpart suspiciously for a moment, then turned his gaze to the redhead still smirking from the circle of his arms. Neither said anything further. With a growl Goliath turned away, stepping off the ledge of the window and jumping into the air.

***

It wasn't long before he reached the alley where the others were waiting. They were all still there, Angela sunk in a sitting position on one of the skiff's seats, staring at nothing whatsoever. Elisa kept sending her worried looks, but the girl didn't say a word to her. 

Goliath landed with a thump. "Demona and Thailog are working together," he announced to them. "They are caught up in some plot together against Macbeth."

"You're kidding," the human said in surprise. "Wow. This is like the meeting of the villains, huh?" She smiled slightly, joking. "Maybe we should just let them finish each other off." 

"No," he replied, recognizing the jest but answering her anyway. "Whatever Macbeth has done to us in the past it would not be right to leave him in the grip of those two unawares. We must help him. But it is nearly dawn." He glanced at the sky as he said this. It had taken a long time to find Demona. "Anything we do we must do tomorrow night."

Angela spoke up for the first time. "Why didn't you ever tell me that Demona was my mother?" she asked quietly.

Her father stared at her, astonished.

"I followed you," she explained, looking up at him with faintly betrayed eyes. "I heard everything she said to you."

Goliath sighed heavily. "That was…a long time ago," he said. 

"You should have told me," Angela insisted, anger sparking in her at his words.

He shook his head in frustration. "What she and I shared is over. Has been over for centuries! It does not matter!"

"It matters to me! FATHER!!"

As the last syllable escaped her lips her angry stance solidified into stone, as well as Goliath's urgent one facing her. The sunlight was suddenly slanting down the street, glittering slightly off the alley's damp walls.

"Well, that's one way to end an argument," Elisa muttered, looking at them. She pulled her jacket closer around her to ward off the morning chill and turned around, heading back into the city. If Demona was up to something, they needed to find out what. And she was just the person to do it.

***

            Late afternoon was just beginning to fade when the ceremony finally was able to begin. Arranging a wedding in less than twenty-four hours was no mean feat, but with much hurrying and a liberal wetting of palms, Macbeth was able to get everything set up in time. The living room of his private château was decked out in flowers; lilies, roses, and carnations; a myriad of others. He had spared no expense on the decorations. And when Macbeth spared no expense the result was impressive indeed. He didn't care about the bills or the aggravation of getting everything done on time. All he cared about was making Dominique happy. He knew he hadn't known her for very long, a matter of a mere few weeks. Many would say he was jumping into things too fast, but that wasn't true to his mind. She seemed to know him better than he knew himself, finishing his sentences for him and always being interested in his point of view, no matter how outdated some of his ideas might be. Most importantly, she seemed to understand the intense loneliness he felt, brought on by centuries of isolation and necessary detachment, even if she couldn't possibly understand its source. He felt like he'd known her for years and not just the short time he had been in Paris this century. Macbeth knew what love felt like, had felt it deeply and purely once in his long life and ached with the lack of it for all the rest. He knew that he loved this woman standing now before him, looking radiant in the snowy white wedding dress he had bought for her, and he knew that he wanted to spend as much of the rest of his life with her as he could. 

            The minister was speaking. "Do you, Lennox Macduff, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold, to honor in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, in good times or bad for the rest of your life?"

            "I do," he said soberly. The need of the alias pained him on this most sacred of occasions, but it was necessary. He hadn't used his real name in any official documents since the eleventh century.

            The man of God then turned to the woman. "And do you, Dominique Destine, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold, to honor in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, in good times or bad for the rest of your life?"

            "I do," she stated boldly without hesitation, warming his heart.

            "Then, in the power vested in me by the city of Paris, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride."

            Macbeth drew her veil back, taking a moment to admire her flawless beauty before bringing her in for a lingering kiss. They broke apart a moment later, she a touch breathlessly. 

            "Thank you, brother," The white haired man said. "I'm sorry to ask this of you, but could you leave now? I have some things I need to discuss with my wife."

            The man blinked at this oddity, but seeing the knowing look on Dominique's face, decided that this was a personal matter and one he'd rather not intrude on. "Of course," he agreed cordially and took himself out. 

            Dominique was staring out the giant bow windows, watching with glowing eyes as the sun slowly sank below the horizon, almost completely gone. Macbeth didn't notice. He was too focused on the very difficult things he needed to say. He had decided that if he was to honor his love for her, and the very vows he had just taken, he had a duty to tell her everything about himself, letting her in on the secret of his life. It wouldn't be easy however.

            "Dominique. My love," he began, taking her hands in his. "There's something I need to tell you. I've been hiding something from you, ever since we met. I think its time that you knew the truth about me."

            Instead of the puzzled concern he expected to see on her face, she instead smirked broadly. "Well," she said. "If we're going to bare our souls…why don't I go first." Her voice became sinister at those final words, alarming her husband, and she turned to face the window, holding her arms out from her sides as the sun disappeared from sight. 

            "Dominique, what…?" Macbeth trailed off as she suddenly gasped, crouching over to clutch at her stomach. And then she began to change. Her feet grew massively larger, breaking out of the dainty white slippers that had covered them, the heel rising to stand off the floor, growing a point as it did so. Her fingers seemed to flow together for a moment until there were only four digits instead of five. Her ears became pointed and tiny fangs grew where her canines had been. All at once Dominique cried out, the wedding dress ripping to shreds in the back as two powerful wings burst from her shoulder blades and a tail coiled at her feet. Her eyes flashed red fire in her agony, only to fade to black pupils rather than the emerald he had so admired. Lastly of all her skin shifted color from peaches and cream to a dusky blue. The attack over, the terribly familiar gargoyle looked up at him, a wicked grin on her face. 

            "Surprise," she stated in a dry voice

            "Demona," he said unbelievingly, feeling his entire heart seem to shatter at once at this betrayal of his hope. 

            He didn't have time to do more than stare in shock. A door opened behind him and he whirled at the unexpected intrusion, perceiving only a large winged shape in the doorway before it raised a gun and fired. Macbeth saw a brief flash of burning color and then the immortal sank into inky blackness.

            ***

            The three gargoyles came awake with muted roars as the sun set, doing their best not to call too much attention to themselves in this crowded city. Elisa was waiting for them when they woke, the intense air about her speaking of urgent matters about to take place. 

            "Demona's going by the name Dominique Destine," the cop reported to them tersely. "I went to the bank and found out that she's opened a joint bank account with one 'Alexander Thailog'."

            "I see," Goliath rumbled. 

            "There's more," his friend warned him. "There's also a note that upon her marriage, the money of one Lennox Macduff is to be pooled in the same account. All three of them will be able to get access to it. Now what do you think the chances are of Macbeth actually getting to see any of that money?"

            "It sounds like the sort of plot Thailog would come up with," the male gargoyle said with disgust. "He always was motivated more by greed than anything else."

            "What do you think they'll do to Macbeth?" Angela asked, looking uncertainly between her two companions. "They won't kill him, surely."

            "They can't," Elisa informed her. "The immortality spell is set up so that when Macbeth dies, Demona goes too. So whatever they're doing, it won't be fatal."

            Goliath had been silent for a moment. Now he spoke with barely concealed anger, a growl in his voice. "We must stop them. Where would they be? Did you find out?" 

            "Yup," the detective nodded. "I checked around, trying to find out where Macbeth would stay. There's an old chateau which was bought by a wealthy recluse in 1905. No one's seen him for years and the place has just been gathering dust. Very recently, however, he signed the house over wholeheartedly to Lennox Macduff." She smiled wryly. "He probably just turned it over to himself, discarding one alias for another. That's probably where they'll be."

            "Very well," their leader replied, spreading his wings in anticipation. "Then let us go."

            ***

            Macbeth came to groggily to find himself lying upon a cold stone floor. Looking up revealed three things. One, he was in the extensive wine cellar of the mansion in a space that had been cleared of all its attending casks and bottles. Two, someone had erected bars in this space, creating a makeshift prison. Three, two very pleased gargoyles were standing on the other side of the bars, staring down at him. One of them was Demona, the demon, the creature that had ruined his life time and time again; still clad in her wedding dress, as a mockery of him he had no doubt. The other was a person he had never seen before and was frankly puzzled by. He looked exactly like Goliath except in different colors, like the negative of a photograph come to life. His mouth had a cruel set to it that was different than his look-alike's, however. Here was someone to watch carefully, Macbeth judged. He was not to be trusted. 

            The immortal king forced himself to his feet, refusing to be seen as in suppliance to these creatures. The unknown's eyes glinted at this and the temptress grinned wickedly. "Oh, poor Macbeth," she mocked. "We didn't hurt you did we?"

            He met her gaze steadily. "You know you did not." Indeed, in this close proximity the spell that entwined their fates and lives would cause all the pain that one felt to rebound to the other as well. 

            "Of course we do," the male gargoyle said and Macbeth noted with distraction that he even **sounded like Goliath. "We had to be careful not to hurt you. After all, I wouldn't want my angel here in pain."**

            "Angel?" the ancient king scoffed. "**Demon is more like it!"**

            "As you say," Thailog conceded, a smug smile on his face. "But whoever said that was a bad thing."

            The human didn't reply to that, merely looking at the gargoyle in a controlled stare. "What do you want with me?" he asked in a steady voice, one that turned bitterly angry as he turned his gaze to his eternal foe. "Why the charade?! The marriage! Why do you mock me, taking away everything I hold dear?!"  
            Demona actually hissed, stepping forward with burning anger in her suddenly glowing red eyes. "You took away everything **I held dear, back on that battlefield! Why shouldn't you share the same fate? Why shouldn't you suffer as**** I have suffered?!" **

            Thailog laid a hand on her arm and she regained control of herself, stepping back again to regard their prisoner with vicious triumph. "We **will take everything from you," she informed him. "When we were married, I became the co-owner of everything you have. And once you are declared missing, and then legally dead, it will all belong to me and to Thailog.**

            "You can't kill me," Macbeth said, glaring at her. "Not without killing yourself."

            "True," she answered, the smile growing wider. "But we can keep you down here for as long as we want to, dead to the world. How does it feel, Macbeth, to be our eternal prisoner?" 

            "Yes," Thailog agreed, stepping before Demona to add his own gloating into the mix. "No one knows you're down here, and you've created a fine reputation for yourself as a recluse." His massive wings curved in a semicircle around the bars for a moment, hiding everything from the king's view but his massive form. As he did this, the gargoyle pulled a small hand-held laser pistol out of the vest he wore and surreptitiously passed it to him. Macbeth's eyes widened but he took the weapon, quickly secreting it on his own person. "Not to mention, you've been missing from sight for two months already. Who would miss you?" Thailog stepped back again, his eyes meaningful as he looked at his prisoner. Behind him Demona sneered, having seen nothing but her lover's taunt. 

            "Let's just leave him here to think about his new condition," she suggested. 

            The dark gargoyle turned knowing red eyes upon the immortal man again. "Yes. I think that's a wonderful idea."

            They walked out without a backward glance. 

Reaching the chateau's flower-strewn main room again Demona let out an exultant cry, jumping up to kiss the other gargoyle passionately. Thailog returned her embrace, but seemed distracted, hardly paying attention to the woman in his arms. The redhead was blind to his inattention, however. "You were wonderful, my love," she breathed to him. "Oh to think of all the time I wasted on Goliath! You are everything he is too moral to be, superior to him in every way."

            "I'd like to think so," Thailog answered to her exclamation. The clone's eyes glinted darkly for a moment, though. Obviously he disliked being used as a constant comparison to his prototype. He didn't say anything about it however, still seeming distracted as he glanced around the room. "Why was he in Paris, do you think?"

            "Oh, who cares! He can't do anything to us!" Demona didn't want to think about her ex-husband right now. She was in a mood to celebrate. She moved to kiss him again, but Thailog turned his head away.

            "I think we should keep an eye on him, nevertheless. See that he doesn't try to get in our way. After all, he's the only one who knows we have anything to do with Macbeth." He let go of her and took a step away, glancing out the window. "I'll go now and look for him. I have a feeling he won't be very far away. My overprotective father will be meddling, as usual."

            "Now?!" the female said incredulously. "We've only just won. Don't you want to stay with me?"

            He stroked the side of her face with one talon. "My love, nothing would please me more than to be by your side, but we must be sure that this scheme will not come unraveled just as we bring it to fruition. Goliath is an unexpected danger. He…"

            Thailog broke off as a siren started up. Macbeth would not own a home that did not have at least some sort of security system, even if it was only a warning. A panel in one of the walls pulled aside to reveal a computer screen behind it, one that clicked to life and showed the outside of the chateau, the images sent by hidden cameras. On the picture two gargoyle shapes, one with a wingspan so large he could only be Goliath, neared the mansion, preparing to land.

            Demona snarled. "You were right! He did follow us here." She turned to her lover. "Come on. Together we can take him!"

            At that moment there was a burst of sound and the door to the room exploded inward. Both gargoyles threw their hands in front of their faces, ducking away from the flying splinters. Macbeth stood in the shattered doorframe, holding a laser pistol in one hand and looking enraged past all reason.

            "DEMONA!!!" he thundered.

            "I'll take care of Goliath. You deal with Macbeth!" Thailog ordered and opened the window, climbing out of it swiftly to scale the outer wall. It wasn't long till he reached the top. He stopped there, looking down through the extensive skylight roof down at the battling immortals below. "Feel free to destroy yourselves," he murmured quietly, a smile lighting his face that was totally at odds with his previous urgency.

            Down below, the blue gargoyle circled the enraged human warily. Macbeth raised the pistol and fired, red fire arcing through the air towards his foe. She dodged out of the way, then rushed in close to rake her claws across his front. The white haired man fell back with a cry, clutching his bleeding side and Demona groaned as well, holding her own chest. Whatever one felt, the other did as well. 

            Not deterred for long, Macbeth straightened, prepared to begin round two.

            ***

            Thailog was enjoying the show, watching the two tear into each other. He still had a few problems that had to be dealt with, however. A voice cut through the still night. "Thailog!"

            The dark gargoyle turned. "Detective Maza," he greeted cordially. "I should have known you would be here if Goliath was."

            "Save the chatter," she said, stepping towards him. "We aren't going to let you do this to Macbeth."

            He ignored her statement, making a shushing motion towards her. "Be quiet. You don't want to disturb the newlyweds, after all."

            There was a loud crash down below and Demona's distinctive snarl floated up to their ears, followed by the sound of laser fire. Elisa's eyes went to the skylight. "Newlyweds?" she said incredulously. "It sounds like their killing each other down there!"

            The gargoyle chuckled evilly. "I certainly hope so."

            He heard a faint sound behind him and whirled, swinging both his fists into Goliath. The purple gargoyle stepped back, unbalanced, before regaining his footing. Thailog cursed himself for an idiot. Elisa had just been a diversion, giving his father time to approach from the rear. Now the two identical gargoyles circled each other, searching for a weakness. 

            "Well well, father. I'm impressed. That almost worked." Thailog swung with one fist, aiming for his head. Goliath dodged the blow easily however, and the circling began again.

            "Why are you doing this?" Goliath demanded urgently. "What's the point in targeting both Macbeth **and Demona? Do you not care for her?!" He whirled suddenly, his tail snapping out for the clones' legs, trying to unbalance him. The dark gargoyle was wise to this old trick unfortunately, leaping over it to hurtle through the air and into his prototype. Not giving him time to recover from this assault Thailog hit him with enough force that Goliath went stumbling back, his back hitting an upraised part of the roof with a smack. **

            "Oh, I suppose I'm fond enough of her," Thailog continued conversationally. "But its really not that important. Once those two kill each other, I'll be the sole proprietor of all the money and assets they've both collected in ten centuries of life. Add that to the money I embezzled from Xanatos and you have…quite a bundle. And now that 'Dominique' has put my name on the bank's list I can get access to that cash without ever having to show my face."

            "You truly have not changed." The tone was one of utter disgust. With tose words Goliath levered himself up, charging Thailog with blazing white eyes. The clone crouched, prepared to meet this frontal assault, but instead the purple gargoyle leaped into the air, his wings supporting him for the crucial seconds it took to sail over the other and land behind him. Turning, he nailed his counterpart with a double punch, one right after another, sending him reeling back.

            Thailog shook his head, recovering from the blows. He snarled in anger, his own eyes glowing white for a second as he looked across the still roof at the other shape. Then a thought struck him. Up until now he had been standing near Goliath, his close proximity causing the clone to always have to be prepared for an assault. Now there was enough space between the two that he did not need to worry about constantly defending himself, and Goliath, he noticed, was backed into a corner with no way to dodge. The red-eyed gargoyle smiled viciously at his prototype and pulled a laser gun out of his vest. 

            "Well, as fun as this has been, I really don't see a need to continue this battle. Goodbye, father." He pulled the trigger. Just as he did so a dark shape hurtled into him from the air, raking claws across his back and knocking the weapon askew. The shot burs out of it, cutting a jagged red line through the roofing ten feet in front of him. Thailog swore loudly as the taloned hand hit him again, scoring his palm as the gun skittered out of his hand. Whoever it was landed directly in front of him.

***

Nearby Elisa watched the fighting with wide eyes. There wasn't much she could do to help, much as she hated to admit it. Thailog was up to Goliath and Angela. 

Another crash split the night from the building beneath her, the sound of a table getting knocked over. Demona snarled again and Macbeth uttered a curse in ancient Gaelic that sounded scurrilous, despite the fact that Elisa didn't understand it. The metaphorical light dawned. Here, at least, was something useful she could do. Edging around the sparring gargoyles to her right the cop made it to the side of the roof and began the slow, laborious process of climbing down.

***

Thailog looked up into eyes that were blazing an angry red in their flawless oval face. For one absurd moment he thought he was facing Demona. Then he took in the purple-grey skin and the long sable hair and knew that it was some unknown she-garg that had attacked him. 

            In the spirit of introduction and welcome everywhere he glared at her and spat, "Who are you?!"

            "Angela," she replied, her eyes still glowing. "And I don't appreciate you trying to kill my father."  
            "Father?!" His gaze darted to the corner where he had left Goliath, only to see that the large gargoyle had disappeared. Now that she pointed it out, however, she did resemble him to an uncanny degree, though her features bore the distinct mark of Demona on them. Intrigued, he looked her up and down. 

            Angela on the other hand, did not wait for him to finish his inspection. She was pissed and didn't care who knew it. With a snarl she launched herself at him again, talons extended. Now that Thailog was expecting it though, he easily dodged out of the way, slamming her down with one massive hand as he did so. "Well, aren't you spunky," he commented, amusement rising to the fore again. "You know, if you're his daughter that almost makes us siblings. Now, do you really want to fight your brother?"

            She scrambled to her feet, crouched defensively. "You're sick!"

            Thailog chuckled again. "So people keep telling me." He whirled into motion, echoing Goliath's move by whipping his tail at the teenager's legs. She also was expecting this and managed to get out of the way without tripping, but it put her so off balance that his next punch sent her reeling. Not out for the count, she straightened quickly, talons crooked, and the fighting began in earnest.

            ***

            Macbeth had lost the laser pistol. His hand was bleeding from where Demona must have ripped it out of his grasp and they both favored that arm, even as they grappled hand to hand with each other. The immortal king finished that altercation by grabbing the gargoyle's wrist as she lunged for him, flipping her easily over his hip and into a flower bedecked table, one of the few pieces of furniture in the room that was still standing. It splintered as the woman landed on it hard, collapsing under the force of her body's collision. Demona scrambled out from beneath the pieces, little pieces of wood still clinging to the sequined pearls in her snowy wedding dress, torn now at the knees to allow for freedom of movement. Her eyes were flashing continuous red fire, teeth bared in a incensed snarl. She wasn't thinking logically now, her ever-present rage taking her over fully as she stalked the human again. 

Macbeth was looking no calmer, for all that his was a human face and not a demon's. He looked ready to do murder. Every now and then a curse would escape his lips, never in English and always colorful, but for the most part he fought in grim silence. With a roar of rage Demona launched herself at him, wings snapping open to give her the added lift she needed to sail across the hall. She descended on Macbeth like a hawk on a rabbit, moving so fast she was only a furious flashing of blue skin and red hair as she tore at him with her claws, ignoring the pain this caused to her own face. Either she was being stoic or was simply too angry to feel it. Elisa was betting on the latter. The cop looked around urgently for something that would stop those two before they took the whole house down. Her eyes fell on the laser pistol, its handle slightly bloody, where it lay under the remnants of a lily bouquet, the vase cracked and seeping tears of water.

Elisa hurried over to it, hugging the wall so the combatants would not see her. She needn't have bothered. They were both far too caught up in their own struggle to notice anything else. She could have come in with an entire marching band at her heels and likely neither of the immortals would have looked up. She reached the gun in a moment, picking it up gingerly to avoid cutting herself on the vase's glass. At that moment Macbeth, who had been fending off Demona's advances desperately with a number of Judo blocks, managed to get on the offence and snapped his leg out in a power house kick, sending the gargoyle spinning away from him again. The red-haired spitfire turned, preparing to rain death down upon him again, but she never got the chance.

"Demona!!" Elisa yelled, as loudly as she could.

That caught the gargoyle's attention. She snapped around at that hated voice, surprised to hear it here, turning to face the cop as she did so.

Elisa raised the gun and fired. The shot burst out, whizzing through the air to slam into the unprotected Demona, nailing her right in the front. She screamed as the bolt sizzled into her, the smell of burning flesh filling the air, only to fall dead, a smoking hole burned through her abdomen.  

A little ways away Macbeth cried out as well, clutching his own stomach in agony for one crucial second before collapsing to the floor, also dead.

Elisa Maza took a deep, gasping breath and lowered the weapon.

***

Thailog was winning, there was no doubt of that. He was larger, stronger, and had had more training than the gargoyle in front of him. He had to admit she was putting up a good fight, though. It would almost be a shame to kill her when this was all over. She was family, after all. That thought made him smile in sadistic pleasure. He'd never balked at trying to kill family before, had concocted a whole scheme around that pleasure once in Manhattan in fact. Pity it hadn't worked. He still wasn't sure how Goliath, Xanatos, and Sevarius had managed to escape from that exploding tanker. The thought that they were still out wandering the world grated on his nerves sometimes. He'd have to go back and emend that problem one of these days. But now was not the time to worry about it.

            Angela had taken advantage of his momentary distraction to back away a little, keeping enough distance between them that he couldn't attack her while she evaluated his condition, looking for weaknesses. Silly girl. He felt fine. A little winded, but that was understandable under the circumstances. The few scrapes and bruises he'd acquired wouldn't have slowed down a fly. His hand was burning from the deep cuts she had inflicted on him when he had lost the gun, though. He'd have to make her scream for that.

            All of a sudden the girl's face lighted up, hope dawning in her eyes. Before the clone had time to wonder about that however, her face turned determined again and she charged him. Honestly! Some people never learned. Thailog crouched, preparing to tear her pretty little head off when she got close enough and finish this battle once and for all. Just as he was about to make his move someone grabbed him from behind, constricting him painfully in a vise-like grip. Angela darted in close, her hard-hitting punch snapping his head back. With a roar and a surge of adrenaline Thailog managed to wrench himself free, stumbling a few feet away, only to turn again to see both father and sister arrayed against him, flanking him warily from two sides. Thailog backed away. He was fairly sure he could take either one of them individually, but two on one odds weren't his style. At least they weren't when he was the outnumbered one. He took another step back and his claws met empty air. He had reached the edge of the roof. Without another word the gargoyle dived off it, swooping into the night and away from the chateau. 

            "Should we go after him?!" Angela asked, looking up at her father urgently.

            Goliath followed his counterpart's flight with unreadable eyes. "No," he told her. "Let him go."

            ***

            Elisa stepped over littered debris to stand next to Demona, looking down at the prone corpse lying motionless on the floor. In just the few seconds it had taken the detective to cross the room there was a difference in the gargoyle's body. She was still dead, but the gaping hole was gone, the ripped section of dress showing only smooth blue skin beneath. The human didn't have time to ponder this, however. There was a groan behind her and she turned to see Macbeth struggling to his feet, clutching his head in pain. Elisa hurried over and helped him up.

            "Very foolish, detective," he told her, his Scottish accent rising prominently in his pain. "The spell that links Demona and myself will not let us die by anyone's hands but our own."

            "I was counting on that," Elisa told him with a smile. "Killing Demona temporarily stopped you two from doing away with each other permanently."

            "You should thank her, Macbeth." Both humans looked up to see Goliath enter the room, flanked by a weary Angela. "Elisa saved your life," the gargoyle finished.

            Macbeth sighed and turned away from them, shrugging out of Elisa's helping hands to walk forlornly to the room's massive fireplace. Absurdly, a happy blaze was still burning in the grate, the only thing in the room not in shambles. It cast a reddish glow on the sorrowful face that now stared into it. "A sad, endless existence I'm doomed to face alone," the immortal said, tired defeat in every line of his body.

            "No," Goliath disagreed gently, walking over to his adversary. "Demona may have tricked you, but in her own backwards way, she has done you a favor." Angela, subdued and quiet up until now, had her gaze fixed on the still form of her mother. Now she padded over to crouch beside the older woman. "At least now you know you are capable of love," Goliath went on, laying a hand on the immortal's shoulder. "The kind of love that makes living worthwhile. Search for that love, Macbeth." The gargoyle glanced up as he said this, his gaze turning unconsciously to Elisa. "She's out there."     Elisa smiled and ducked her head, his look not lost on her. Any reply Macbeth might have made was forestalled by Demona's awakening. She groaned slightly and stirred, the redhead's eyes fluttering open as she regained consciousness. She was completely unharmed now, the laser blast gone as if it had never been. The gargoyle raised her head with a moan, one that stopped abruptly as her gaze fell on Angela, crouched not five feet away from her. The immortal's eyes widened in astonishment at this unknown gargoyle.

            "Who are you?" she breathed.

            "Angela." The other hesitated a moment, then added bravely. "Your daughter."

            Demona's expression went from wonder to scornful disbelief in a heartbeat. "What are you talking about?" she snapped. "I have no daughter!"

            "Yes you do," Angela insisted urgently. "I..." She cut off abruptly as there was a stir at the window. The distinct sound of wings snapping and someone landing was heard and a moment later a dark skinned, white haired shape stood in the large, open pane. 

            Demona ceased paying her any attention at all. Her face lighted up in hope and love and she jumped to her feet, running over to engulf herself in Thailog's arms. "My love!" she exclaimed passionately, hugging him as if she was afraid he would disappear. Thailog swept one smug, knowing look around the room at the startled faces it contained, then looked down at the woman in his arms. 

            "Let's go," was all he said.

            Without another word or a glance back Demona followed him out the window, once again disappearing from sight.

            "But, no..." Angela said disbelievingly, still stooped on the floor. "He tried to kill her! Doesn't she know?"

            "How could she?" Elisa said, shaking her head sadly. "He only admitted it to us, up on the roof."

            Macbeth spoke up for the first time since Goliath's speech. "Thank you for saving me from those two. They easily could have done just what they threatened, leaving me stranded, locked up for years with no one the wiser. Mayhap I **have** spent too much time as a recluse."

            "It is always good to surround yourself with friends you trust," Goliath advised him.

            "Yes," the white-haired man agreed. He then visibly shook himself out of his funk. "Now. If you'll excuse me for saying this, you're all trespassing. Kindly get off my property immediately."

            Despite the backhanded thanks there was no bite to his tone. Goliath smiled, caping his wings to give the man an elegant bow. "Of course. Be well, Macbeth." He turned gathering the others with a look as he strode out the door. Elisa shot the immortal an unreadable look as she followed the gargoyles, and then nodded at him formally, adding her own well wishing to the pile. 

            Alone in a destroyed ruin, his hopes and dreams strewn around his feet in crushed fragrance, Macbeth stood. But he wasn't despairing. His heart was filled with a new hope that he couldn't understand, but was infinitely grateful for. "I will," he murmured in reply, and meant it for the first time in a long time. Then, looking around with a sigh, he bent to begin picking up the pieces.

Well, what did you think? Please don't flame! But if you liked it or didn't for whatever reason and would like to tell me, I'd love to hear from you. Do you think the experiment was a success?


End file.
